To the people buying my family's home,

You don't know me. You don't know that the hall closet was my favorite place to hide during hide and seek. Or that I thought the best place for reading in the entire house was the back left corner of my bedroom, on the floor, so I could look out the window overlooking my backyard. You had no idea that in the middle of the kitchen is where I lost my first tooth. You don't know that on the railing of the front porch, a mere four feet of the ground, my little sister and I used to imagine we were "mountain climbing". You don't know that the backyard was where I learned to play catch, and then where I taught my brother once he was old enough. And you don't know about the time we were lucky enough to find that on a snowy Christmas morning, Santa Clause had left his hat behind of the roof outside of my sister's bedroom. You don't know about these things, and you probably don't care. But I do. Because these were the things that made this house my home.

This house was wonderful to us. This house played host to countless birthday parties, family movie nights, and Christmas mornings. It watched me grow, saw me graduate high school, and sent me off to college. This is the house that built me, carved me into the person I've become.

This house tells a story. My story. But my chapter is coming to an end and your family's is beginning. Take care of this house and it will take care of you. Love this house and it will love you back. Welcome home.

-Emily